


The Art of Chaos

by wickedrum



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse of Powers, Emetophilia, Emotional Hurt, Fluffy Ending, Magic Spell, Multi, Whump, brave Jaskier, helpful Jaskier, whump for the sake of whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22886083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Set: Post-ep 6, Jaskier and Geralt bump into each other again down the side of the mountain after Yennefer took her anger out on the witcher once more. With the use of magic. Geralt!whump.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	1. Blessing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: I barely own my knickers. When I am writing, it's mainly for my own pleasure.
> 
> Pairing: Geralt/Yennefer, Geralt/Jaskier.
> 
> Note: I never played the game, only read one of the books, but the show is too compelling not to get involved in some way or another.
> 
> Genre: whump.

Chapter 1: Blessing

He loved Geralt so much. That was why every word coming out of the witcher’s mouth during that tirade was like a dagger hitting Jaskier in the heart. He knew why Geralt was upset, it was essentially the same reason he was, the object of his affections being angry with them and rejecting them. It was why Jaskier tried to reason with himself, made an effort to decide that he would forgive the witcher. Still, it hurt and he could not stop the tears welling up in his eyes once he turned away and was trudging down the path from the mountain. The heavy sadness that squeezed his heart with an icy cold hand laid weight on his whole body and the silence of the slopes made his loneliness feel even more burdensome. Had he been wrong in thinking Geralt would get used to him joining him over the years? Had he been lying to himself about the witcher’s possible developing feelings for him? Was everything lost now? 

Jaskier didn’t care where he was going. They didn’t take this route up the way so he could have been heading towards a cliff, but as opposed to being scared of falling coming up on the shortcut, he had no such thoughts this time, in fact as social of a person he was, he wanted to avoid any of their on and off travel companions just now so they did not see his eyes brimming with tears or forced him to talk when he couldn’t for the knot in his throat was threatening to develop into sobs. So when he heard some rustling and steps behind him, he jumped straight out of the way and into the bushes, intending to let whoever was there pass and then continue on his journey if he even had the inclination to move at that point. He did not expect Geralt to appear down the path, not with those halting steps and heavy footsteps and he most certainly did not expect the witcher to lean forward, hands on his knees and puke. The bard had never seen the wolf sick before. Injured sure, affected by his potions, yes, but nothing like this. 

Geralt went down on one knee, holding his belly as he heaved, spewing with big, painful convulsions that didn’t produce much bar the spasms by the looks of it. Serves him right for accusing him of things he hadn’t done, was Jaskier’s first thought, however it only took a few seconds till the whole occurrence started not to sit well with him and concern rose in the pit of his stomach for his friend. Slowly, he edged out towards his hunched mate, ready to retreat and disappear at any time if he was growled at, but then the witcher moaned in what sounded like pain and Jaskier decided to ignore his own hurt feelings. “Geralt?” The word was tentative, confused, “um..what’s wrong? Did something happen? Is there some monster around?” He looked around guardedly.

The witcher swallowed thickly, trying to gather his composure. Despite his weakened state, his senses had been alert enough to know Jaskier had been there all along, but his stomach had not been cooperating with him to look and act his tough self, “Yennefer happened, that’s all,” he spat to clear the bad taste out his mouth, thinking whether he should get up off his knees, but the wooziness won. 

“Right. That I know, but..”

“She was angry with me. Did some sort of spell to make my stomach hurt bad.”

“She did what? More than hurt bad, by the looks of it. I knew that enchantress was nothing but trouble. What can I do? Do you have any potions in your sack to counteract it? Maybe down in the valley with Roach?”

“Fuck, no.” Geralt leaned forward again, bringing up a little bit of stomach acid with great effort. 

Jaskier winced in sympathy. Was this somehow partly his fault afterall? Driven by concern, he surged forward to support the trembling larger man. Another thing he did not expect was for Geralt to crumble, sliding down onto the ground and leaning into him readily while fighting the obviously overwhelming nausea with increased salivation and big gulps, swallowing down the acid burning his throat. “You look awful,” the troubadour noted wearily how the witcher’s skin has started to try to match the colour of his eyes, “when will the spell, you know, wear off?” Jaskier plopped down on the ground as well so he could support him better. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it will. Not till she stops it, no other way out.” 

“Ooh. Well, shit.”

“Hm,” Geralt felt weak and washed out by the constant puking so far down the mountain, “son of a bitch.”

“So what should we do? Look, I doubt that an ordinary healer could break the insane woman’s curse.”

“What? Wait till it passes,” Geralt closed his eyes in hopes it helped quell the nausea. 

“Good idea, yes, yes. I’ll make camp under that tree,” the smaller man was ready for action. 

“No!” Geralt grabbed his hand, “don’t…” The movement elicited a sharp pain in the middle of his stomach and he yelped, pulling the bard down with him again as he folded. 

“Bollocks. What is it?” Jaskier was at a loss. 

“I meant wait it out, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop the trek. I will go on.”

The entertainer rolled his eyes at him, “sure. Except, can you even stand up unaided?” 

Geralt winced in advance, but took the question as a challenge and straightened, though using Jaskier’s shoulders as a prop half way, “I don’t want anybody seeing me like this here. They might get the wrong idea, they could.”

“That I do actually understand,” Jaskier sighed. Only just moments ago he had been hiding in a similar manner. “I’ll be close, right here,” he stepped in line. “Do you want me to carry anything for you?” 

“Because that wouldn’t equally look like I’m incapacitated. I can’t have that.” Truth be told, he would have wanted to lie down there and then, but that wasn’t an option for similar reasons either. He took some even, steadying breaths, waiting out the wave of extra nausea to pass that standing up caused, “let’s go,” he tried putting one foot in front of the other.

Jaskier raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, pausing standing there, get the measure of how affected Geralt was, then followed without a second thought, his upset and anger temporarily shoved aside by the concern and empathy he felt towards the taller man. The bard wasn’t sure how Geralt was intending to look undisturbed if any of the other hunters passed by as his colour had turned to an inhuman grey as it would have been if he’d taken certain potions, was swallowing convulsively and held his aching stomach rigidly in the hope his hand will steady it enough for its contents to stay put. The effort put into appearing more in control wasn’t helping and his stomach contracted painfully, but he held back the moan that was threatening to escape his lips for the sake of the present bard. Jaskier was far from clueless though. Geralt had no idea how his friend had guessed what was going to happen, but by the time he folded with the overwhelming nausea, Jaskier had grabbed for his arm and kept him steady as the next rush of saliva and bile hit the ground in front of them. The smell it emitted turned the witcher’s stomach again and for a few moments, all he could do was ride out the ensuing cramping and keep from face planting into the mess, largely thanks to the man helping him. 

“Oh hey, we don’t need to look at that,” Jaskier led him away from the small puddle the moment he’d straightened up a little, “you wanna lie down a bit now?” The younger man winced at the weight the other put on him by leaning into the support, “it might help.”

“It won’t. Only Yennefer can stop it, I’ve told you.”

“And I intend to find her and make her see sense, during which I prefer you to stay put and use your breathing techniques. You must think there’s something in it the way you’re trying to take slow and steadying breaths.”

“No. Just a habit, it’s not really helping,” the witcher rushed the words out, then clamped his mouth shut, feeling like vomiting again.

“Geralt, you need to sit, this instant,” Jaskier led him to the side of the road, not keen on taking any more of his nonsense. The white wolf had no strength to argue. Besides, he knew his companion was right. They weren’t going to make it very far, not like this. Whatever Yennefer did, it was taking a lot out of him and just bending his body to sit made him break out with a new sheen of sweat. He felt so bad that he would have wanted to take one of his swords and fall into it, just to pass out for a while. 

“Yeah well, yeah exactly. Will you be okay here for a while while I look for that sorcerer?” The bard swallowed worriedly, kneeling in front of him. 

Geralt didn’t even know when that came to be and judging by the poet’s face, Jaskier must have thought he needed to repeat everything for the monster hunter to understand and already has done so many times. The pretend-Rivian suddenly became aware also that he was listing to one side and that the younger man was holding him up, with difficulty, while getting his bag off his back and placing it beside them, “here, let’s get you down before you fall over,” Jaskier guided his head towards the softer material, “you’re running a really bad fever too all of a sudden! Is that woman trying to kill you!” 

“I...I don’t think so,” Geralt muttered, barely aware of the comforting hand on his arm.

“I have no choice but to leave you here, sorry.” Jaskier pursed his lips in apology, “I saw which direction the damned witch went, I am going to catch up with her if it’s the last thing I do!” One more encouraging squeeze of the arm and then the bard broke into a run, not wanting to waste any more time. 

Tbc


	2. Benediction

Chapter 2: Benediction

Thankfully, there weren’t many ways off the mountain, especially from the direction they’ve come from and soon enough, Jaskier caught sight of Yennefer’s dark hair blowing in the wind a couple of slopes away. He didn’t really think shouting at her would yield any results, so he took to trying to catch up with her instead. Of course compared to Geralt he hardly had any outdoor know-how, but he wasn’t completely useless either. He had driven his mother insane with his unbecoming stunts as a child often enough. Jaskier tore open his bag, taking out his treasured leather jacket. He only gave one moment’s consideration over wasting it or not, then sat on it and used it as a sled down on the side of the grassy mountain without any care to his own well being. “Oh no, watch out!” He ended up having to shout as the contraption picked up some speed, threatening to take out the angry witch who was trudging down quite in a mood. Jaskier hoped it was also a way to stop himself before he got to the cliffs and thankfully enough, Yennefer held out a hand to halt him with her magic before he could batter into her, though stopping wasn’t exactly pain free. The bard rolled over a few times before coming to a complete stop, pretty sure the rest of his clothes were ruined now as well. 

“Are you alright?” Yennefer seemed unusually kind towards him, “I heard Geralt shouting at you before I left. Pretty much everything.”

Jaskier jumped up, “am I alright? Um..what did you do to him?”

“You shouldn’t care, bard. He doesn’t deserve your loyalty or concern.”

“But I do care. He’s crumpled into a heap and can’t stop puking. Not to be untoward or anything but he says you did that to him.”

“Excuse me if I can’t feel sorry for him,” she turned to leave, “he shouldn’t go around binding people to him whenever he feels like it without asking first. It’s not right.”

“Well it might not be,” the man considered, remembering how he’d practically done the same to Geralt, “but listen, that’s besides the point right now. Tell me, are you intending to you know, cancel the spell at some point?” Jaskier tried to catch up and found it hard with his aching limbs. 

“Sure. When I’m in the mood.”

“And when is that?” Jaskier cut in, “he is in a terrible state.” 

“Oh, calm down, bard. It’s my spell, not yours. He will be fine. It’s nothing life threatening or anything he can’t deal with.”

“But what if someone attacks him? The way he is, his only defence is ooh, maybe puking on the particular monster.”

“You came to confront me, did you?” Yennefer took interest again, turning, “must be brave of you little singing birdie. And after all he has said to you too!”

“Look, he didn’t mean it.”

“Hell’s teeth, is that why you got so upset?”

“Who says I was upset. I’m not really upset. What he did mean with it was loving you, that you were more important to him. I know I cannot compete with that. His love for you is real.”

Yennefer shrugged, though in an acknowledging manner. “You really didn’t need to come here and ask me to discontinue the spell. I would do that on my own, I’m not heartless.”

“Well then? What are you waiting for? We really should be doing something!” Jaskier continued with his bravery facing off the witch. The sorceress didn’t look particularly pleased when finally stopping at his words. At that, the bard did take a step back, knowing he could still be facing the risk of being hit by the same curse as Geralt any time, or worse. 

“I did a kind of spell that can only be stopped by the uttering of some words.” Yennefer looked suddenly spooked as well, “and they need to be true.”

“Yes, yes, now we’re getting somewhere. What are the words? I can go back and say them to him.” 

The dark haired woman shook her head, “no, it doesn’t work like that.” She looked rather uncharacteristically sheepish all of a sudden.

“Oh really? And when were you intending to do something about it?” Jaskier started to be more courageous again. He found the witch’s behaviour outrageous. What was the holdup now!

“I wasn’t, alright? Don’t expect me to always think clearly when I’m furious!” However, she started on the way back on the path, “where is he? Show me the way to him.”

Tbc


	3. Service

Chapter 3: Service

Jaskier found it hard to keep up with the sorceress. Having wandered about the countryside with Geralt for the last decade, trying to keep up with a horse for the most part, had made him reasonably fit, but the woman seemed in a particular hurry, hopefully regretting her previous actions. A game of push and pull they always had been, those two. Their relationship often confused Jaskier, especially why Geralt always let her off the hook and made allowances for her, but then love was love, he knew that himself unfortunately very well. Besides, the woman often acted unhinged, and heaven knows what she would be up to by now if Geralt wasn’t holding her back. 

Running uphill made Jaskier out of breath and dizzy with exhaustion. By the time he had caught up with the woman, the black haired sorceress was kneeling by the seemingly unconscious Geralt, stroking his cheek, her eyes searching the passed out man desperately, “can you hear me?”

“Never mind that, just say the words and cancel the spell out!” Jaskier huffed.

“Yeah sure, if it were that easy,” Yennefer frowned, looking at her on and off boyfriend apologetically.

“Well what is it? Do you need some sort of potion? Could you just quickly teleport somewhere and get it?”

“It’s not that,” she shook her head, “potions can make him feel better to some extent and I have a few ideas, but they won’t stop the spell. I’ve told you what is needed.”

“What the hell, Yennefer! Isn’t it your own magic? If you’ve cursed him, you can uncurse him!”

“No. Sorry, but no. I’ll admit it, I was angry, alright? The way I formulated the spell, I made its ceasing conditional.”

“Excuse you!? Conditional on what!”

“On true love,” Yennefer winced, “and I can’t do that. Cursing him like that isn’t exactly true love.” 

“Oh, no kidding!” Jaskier felt like strangling the bitch. “Luckily for you, I know what true love and true love’s kiss is,” he practically glided over on his knees and without any hesitation, he tilted Geralt’s head so that he could press his lips onto the witcher’s cold, shaking ones. “I love you.” The bard paused, a hair breath away, then leaned in to capture the witcher’s bottom lip and pulled gently, carried away..

“That won’t work,” Yennefer yanked him back by the collar, “you can’t.”

“Why not? Let me try again, properly this time, don’t interrupt. I do love him,” he established earnestly. 

“Yeah, that’s no surprise, poeticule. But that’s not it. You cannot because I made it conditional on mutual true love.”

Jaskier sat back on his haunches, fuming away his defeat. “What! And how do you propose we break the spell then! He loves YOU!”

Yennefer buried her face in her hands, rocking a little back and forth in desperation, “I’m very sorry, I am.”

“That’s not going to help either!” Jaskier felt like crying again, this time in sympathy for his love. “You need to do something, you’re a mage!”

“I will,” Yennefer seemed to gather herself mentally, “I can heal the damage already done and heal it again each time, but he will still feel sick and in pain over and over again till we find a better solution.”

“Well, what are you waiting for then!” 

The sorceress placed her hands over Geralt’s stomach and smoothed over it, then slid them up to his chest. It looked like she was concentrating and it didn’t seem to take a lot of effort till the witcher groaned and opened his eyes to find his two closest confidantes staring at him guardedly from two sides. “Hmm. You did it?” He questioned Jaskier first, somewhat diffident about addressing Yennefer at the moment for obvious reasons. 

“Not fucking really,” the younger man was as apologetic as angry at the woman.

“Oh, I see that,” Geralt realised the truth himself as his stomach cramped anew. 

“Look, Geralt, I didn’t mean this to happen,” Yennefer looked penitent too, avoiding his eyes. 

“Can we talk about it some other time while my guts aren’t trying to impersonate slithering snakes?!” The witcher refused to curl up and give his lover the satisfaction of seeing him so easily affected by her magic. 

“She can’t undo it she says,” Jaskier filled him in since the woman seemed too rueful to say anything just now, “only true love can.” It was uncomfortable admitting it, even if it wasn’t his fault, it felt like like second hand embarrassment. 

Geralt looked from one to the other to see if what he had heard was really the truth, then as readily as Jaskier had been to give him a kiss, he lunged forward, pulled Yennefer towards himself and captured her lips in an eager, fiery kiss. The sorceress reacted with a gasp as she did not predict that response from the monster hunter, but her own natural reaction was more powerful than her surprise and her tongue was already starting its dance with his, bodies pulling close and grinding against each other on instinct. Jaskier sighed and rolled his eyes, a little bit still curious about the outcome of this one so he did not look away just yet. 

“I love you,” Geralt moaned against her mouth in the small window of opportunity when their lips parted before the second round. He had her in his lap by now, breaths speeding up, pupils dilated in need under thick eyelashes. 

“No, no, Geralt,” Yennefer buried her face in his shoulder to mumble, “I’m sorry, you misunderstood. I don’t deserve that and it won’t help.”

“It won’t? I feel fine.”

“What?” Yennefer pulled back to look at him, “that’s not possible.”

“Are you sure?” Jaskier leaned closer, “I just want to check..” He almost bumped his nose into Geralt’s other shoulder in his eagerness to investigate. 

Geralt looked from one to the other again, eyebrows pulled together, unsure of their reaction, but not of how he felt, “I don’t feel sick at all.”

“Your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore?” Jaskier probed while Yennefer did the same with her hands, rubbing them in wonderment against his belly. The sorceress shook her head, “I don’t understand.”

“There’s only one explanation,” the bard frowned. It was of course good news that Geralt was healed but he didn’t quite like the implications of what he was about to say, “you love him too. Truly, love him, no magic involved.”

“But that’s deranged,” Yennefer wouldn’t accept it.

“Is it?” Jaskier grunted his displeasure before punching the witcher in the stomach, as hard as he could manage. It earned him a look from Geralt and an attempt to pull his lover out the way in case the bard decided that further demonstrations were necessary and missed his abdomen, but he didn’t seem affected, not one bit. “Well, there.” The younger man summarised, sincerely happy for his recovery, “you love him. The way you’re holding him there screams it already.”

Yennefer stared with her mouth open, brows still furrowed in question, but then her shocked expression turned into a smile and her eyes started to twinkle with bliss, “who would have thought I had to curse you to find that out,” she reached to unite her lips with his. It was the gentlest, most innocent kiss they’ve ever shared and yet it conveyed all the yearning she could now freely give into any time for it was real. She pulled back to stare into his eyes, breaths mingling, hands advancing on each other’s body for a closer touch. It was somewhat understandable how someone could have mistaken their rapt fascination with it being a result of a spell, they were in a world of their own. 

“Um..well, that’s my cue I guess,”the bard stood with a heaviness in his heart not very different from how he’d felt when he’d first started down the path on his own. “See you around again, I suppose,” he composed his face so he could keep his dignity at the thought of not being needed and disposed of once again. 

“Jaskier? Jaskier!”

The troubadour wondered if he’d really heard the witcher’s deep, resonating, strong voice, but turned nevertheless just in case he indeed did, squinting guardedly. Knowing those two, they have probably gotten rid of some of their clothing by now. “Thank you Jaskier,” Geralt nodded at him, not in the slightest less undressed than he had been before. “Why don’t you go see if Roachie is round where we’ve left her,” he made an eye gesture towards Yennefer’s breasts suggestively. 

“You want me to find Roach for you?” The balladeer was a little confused. Joining up with the witcher’s beloved horse, that wasn’t exactly being sent off to be taken off the witcher’s hands, was it?

“The sooner the better. You know I don’t like to leave her on her own for this long.”

“So um..what about the blessing of myself, out of your life for good?”

“Give us half a day or so, we’ll catch up, you know it,” Yennefer clued him in, pulling her lover down to the ground with her.

Jaskier rolled his eyes. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but this was Geralt, right? The bard was sure he could probably elicit a few well placed agreeing hms out of him at some point and then he should count those as apologies. For now, the main important thing was that life would go on, like it always did. He sighed at having to leave the sight of the lovers in fact undressing each other now, then turned with a smile. He still had the most amazing travel companion muses he could ever wish for. 

The End.


End file.
